The Twelve Doctors' Christmas
by notaghoststory
Summary: After hearing Clara would be alone for Christmas, the Doctor makes it his mission to give her the best Christmas he possibly can. In order to do this he recruits the help of his past incarnations.
1. The First Doctor of Christmas

**The First Doctor of Christmas**

The Doctor's plans were set. After a brief encounter with Santa Claus, the Doctor soon learned that Clara wouldn't be spending Christmas with PE. The Doctor considered maybe she'd left him because she realised she could do better than a boring old maths teacher who couldn't even count children but he was soon met by the reminder of how much Danny loved her; and how much she seemed to love him too. It had left a bitter taste in his mouth, only being forgotten when the real reason Clara would be alone for Christmas hit him. _Oh no._

He wasted no time punching in the co-ordinates he knew would be forever ingrained in his Timelord brain. _76 Totter's Lane._

-x-

"What is it?" Clara snapped, throwing the door open with a look that could kill the delivery man standing outside her flat.

"S-sorry," he stuttered in a high-pitched voice, taking a few steps back from the grumpy young woman who'd answered the door. "This is for you." Instead of handing over a box like most delivery men would do, he pointed to the ground. "A fella came with it today. He brought it to my flat and didn't have the patience to keep looking for your place so I said I'd give it to you."

"But it's a … a bird."

"Yeah," the man chuckled, his comfort reviving now that Clara wasn't glaring venomously at him. "It's a partridge. You know, like the song." He then attempted to sing a very out of tune rendition of "On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to-"

"Sh. You're scaring the bird." Clara knelt down, looking intently at the partridge for any signs of alien threat - if the Doctor wasn't around to do it anymore, someone had to check. It seemed pretty harmless. "Who did you say gave it to you again?" she asked, disappointed that there didn't seem to be any card attached to the small tree the bird was perched on.

He shrugged. "Just some old bloke."

Clara's head shot up. "What bloke? What did he look like?"

And the panic returned to his eyes. "I don't know! Just someone. He had um grey hair-"

"Did you see where he went?" Clara interrupted, her voice racing with urgency.

"Probably out the main door of the building. Mind you, I saw him take the stairs so that might take a while."

She got to her feet immediately, swiftly pulling the bird into her flat and closing the door. "Thank you!"

Clara raced to the window, knowing what route the Doctor always took. She couldn't make sense of why he wouldn't just go straight to her flat or take the TARDIS but right now, she didn't care. _Please let it be him_. The grounds outside were empty, not a person in sight. But then there was. Clara's heart leapt as she saw a figure emerge from the front doors of her building. But it wasn't him.

"That's white, not grey," she muttered to herself, sinking to the ground without so much as a second glance. It's a shame, really, because if she had looked closer she would have seen him walking towards the blue box at the corner. You could just about make it out in the dim, December morning.

-x-

"What do you _mean_ you didn't find her flat?" the Doctor snapped at his former self.

"I left the bird with someone in her building and the young man said he would give it to her." The Doctor huffed. "Be grateful it's gotten to her. Now go on back to your own TARDIS if you want me to help with the rest of your sentimental and complicated quest for the girl's heart." In truth, the Doctor, newly exiled from his home planet couldn't wait to meet the girl who was so special she could make his future self this happy. It seemed impossible that he would fall for a human yet here he was. Clara. That was a name he wouldn't soon forget.


	2. The Second Doctor of Christmas

***A/N: I'm going to try and post a chapter everyday leading up to Christmas but no promises! I have most of Day Seven done so hopefully I'll get it all done on time but school does tend to be rude like that. (Haven't proof read this chapter yet so I'll fix any problems later on this evening.)**

**The Second Doctor of Christmas**

He wasn't going to live this down, he knew that much. The Doctor sighed, wrapping his knuckles on her front door. He hadn't seen her in months and was admittedly more nervous than he would dare to admit.

Before he could fully comprehend that he was about to see her again, the door was open and she was standing there, her mouth parted in a soft 'o'. What felt like the longest five seconds of both their lives - which was saying a lot for the Doctor - passed before Clara spoke.

"Doctor?"

"Hello again," he said softly, his lips cracking in a subtle smile. His fraction of a smile wasn't long accustomed to his face before being cleanly wiped off by the shock of a dainty hand on his shoulder.

"I'm real," he whispered, gently placing a hand on top of hers.

Clara shakily looked up at him. "You're really back?"

He nodded, not taking his eyes off her unsteady hand. Maybe he should have called first. "Confirmed. Actually, properly back."

Her eyes bled a certain fury having not heard a word from him in months and then to have him turn up on her doorstep for no apparent reason. She looked up to meet his gaze, her face slowly relaxing and losing its cold air. "Why?"

Definitely should have called first, he thought. The Doctor knew he should be very careful with this. "I wanted to see you," he replied. "And I … I heard you were in need of some company." He hoped that would be enough explanation for her; he didn't want to get into the topic of her dead ex boyfriend.

"How did you find out?" she sighed quietly, bowing her head.

"Do you believe in Santa Claus?"

Clara giggled at that. "Right now," she began, looking at him once again, tears clouding her vision, "Yeah, I think I do."

The Doctor's face didn't do justice the swoop he'd felt in his hearts. ( Do you know how often they did that now? He'd see a doctor about that but the confusion in filling out the forms wouldn't be worth it. ) "Good to see you again," he admitted, his tone casual as he rocked back and forth on his heels slightly.

"Oh shut up," she chuckled, throwing her arms around him and embracing him in a tight hug. Reluctantly, the Doctor closed his arms around her back. The familiar scent of her was almost enough to reduce the old man to tears.

Clara released a deep sigh, heavy with relief as she loosened her grip and set her feet back firmly on the floor. "Fancy some coffee, then?" she asked, laughing almost as soon as she'd said it. It had been a long while since she'd said something that normal to him.

"Love some," he answered, shooting her a grin as they stepped inside her flat. The Doctor wandered into her living room, smiling a little when he saw the TARDIS' usual spot was still vacant; almost as if Clara had been waiting. He was however, disappointed at the lack of Christmas decorations. They had to do something about that. "Clara-"

Like clockwork, there was a knocking at the door. Clara frowned, dropping the mugs that had barely been out of the cupboard for 2 seconds, onto the counter. "Who'd be calling now?" she asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "No idea," he lied, turning away from the door to hide a smirk. "Oh and Clara, I changed my mind about the coffee. It's been a long day and I've forgotten how comfy your sofa is so I think I'll just take a nap."

Clara halted on her path to the front door to backtrack and poke her head through the door to the living room. It was oddly familiar to see him there again. "You're taking a nap?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"It's one of my New Year's Resolutions. 'Giving it a head start."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, giving an unconvinced "hmph" at his innocent shrug. "You enjoy your nap."

This time when she opened the front door, the person who'd been delivering seemed to have gotten bored just before she'd answered. Clara saw a rather silly looking man with an odd Beatles-like haircut that wasn't nearly as odd as his fashion sense, waddling away. She called after him to no response. Rather than waking up her whole floor, she frowned and was about to step back inside if she hadn't seen the birds out of the corner of her eye.

"You've got to be kidding," she muttered, glancing down at the two birds - in a cage this time. Thankfully, there was a note attached.

In case you're wondering; yes, those are turtle doves.

xoxo

Someone who's got a slight obsession with you but don't tell him I said that.


	3. The Third Doctor of Christmas

**The Third Doctor of Christmas**

When the Doctor woke, he was greeted with Clara bolting back from his face to sit on the couch beside him and look as though she hadn't been staring at him to make him wake up in the first place.

"Morning," he said groggily.

Clara crossed her arms and legs, furrowing a brow at him. "Morning," she replied, her tone slightly suspicious. When it became apparent he wasn't about to open up to her about anything - that anything being the reason why she was receiving birds the past two days - she gave a heavy sigh, accepting she'd have to dig a confession out of him by herself.

"I've been getting presents. Just birds actually, you probably noticed." She nodded towards the spare bedroom with the door ajar, two separate cages sitting beside the bed. "Know anything about them?"

The Doctor immediately shook his head. "Not a clue," he brushed off, casually standing up from the sofa and making his way into the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee?"

Clara grimaced, shoving herself up from the chair and following him in, her arms still folded sternly. "Doctor, aren't you at least a _little_ bit curious as to why I keep getting birds?"

He shrugged. "What kind of birds? - No, let me guess. A partridge in a pear tree and two turtle doves."

"Yes!"

The Doctor chuckled. "There's not much to be curious about then, Clara. It's just like the song. You've got a secret admirer, is all."

Clara smirked. Yeah … "That's why I wanted to talk to you about it," she purred, her expression brightening and posture relaxing. "Have you any idea who? Do you think you could help me figure it out? I really hate not knowing - I've gotten that from you, by the way."

He sighed. "Clara, I haven't seen you in months. How would I know who wants to impress you? Also; isn't the point of a secret admirer that they stay secret until they're ready to tell you they've been the one sending you things?"

"Well yeah but-"

"No buts! Now, which mug do you want? Your favourite's in the wash."

She was losing her patience. "Doctor," she whined. Clara moved around, slipping her body between his and the kitchen counter, firmly gripping onto his arms and looking at him with pleading eyes.

Oh no. She was doing the touching thing again. He never knew how to react to that so all he could do was stand there uselessly, his body stiff as he nervously looked down at her.

"The guy who delivered it," she began. "I didn't notice him much - barely saw him - at first but then I was thinking and … he felt familiar. I was trying to remember all night and then it hit me. I know where I saw that face before."

This was it, he thought. His plan was busted. He should have known having himself deliver presents was too risky and that Clara was too clever not to catch on. Granted, the second had occurred to him but he thought he'd get at least until day 5. The Doctor kept his expression neutral in the hopes that he was wrong and Clara was completely misunderstanding. He raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue.

"Doctor, I'm pretty sure he was you."

The Doctor was never good at accepting his plans had gone wrong and more than anything, he was terrible at coming clean to Clara about anything that had remotely romantic intentions. ( He'd planned on letting her know by day nine but that was for some different reasons he couldn't see a way out of. )

His instinct told him to lie, tell her she was going insane and/or completely wrong for reasons x, y and z but his brain seemed to be communicating in a much different way than his mouth, thankfully for him.

He smirked. "You're welcome," he said, winking at her without shame.

Clara's eyes widened slightly in surprise. That was easy, she thought. "So you're giving me-"

"I think I could make a delivery man as of yet," he added quickly.

Her mouth closed. Oh. She snickered. "Right. Silly I …" She rolled her eyes, smiling up at him. Clara wanted to say something but she just found herself pointing at him with a teasing glare, sliding out from where she was wedged between the counter and the Doctor's torso.

The Doctor smiled softly to himself once she was out of reach. "I'll give you my mug then," he informed her, considering she hadn't answered his question. Clara however had thought to try her odds with a new arrival after seeing a man with white hair and a cape running across the street. He seemed like the kind who was delivering birds to her.

Surely enough, sitting outside her flat door was three hens walking aimlessly. They weren't in a cage but instead free to wander where they pleased. Thankfully for her "secret admirer", they didn't seem interested in their freedom and stayed put.

"Doctor," she groaned.

He was already at her side. "What?" he asked, trying his best not to laugh at the hens whom had mini berets attached to their heads in case there was any doubt they were French.

"What are we gonna do with them?"

"We can keep them all on the TARDIS for now and figure something out later," he said confidently, having already pondered his answer to this before.

The Doctor put a gentle hand on Clara's back, ushering her inside. "I'll handle them for now. We're going to need names for all of these pets by the way." That wasn't the Doctor's subtle way of ensuring she didn't adopt another P.E. teacher by Christmas.

"We can name them after," Clara told him. "But right now I fancy some lunch so get them in quick so we can finish the coffee." She'd been finishing off his job that had only gotten as far as choosing the cups.

"Yes, boss." He'd already settled on calling the last hen Pablo. That hen acted like a Pablo and she seemed to like the name when he suggested it to the hen.


	4. The Fourth Doctor of Christmas

**The Fourth Doctor of Christmas**

"Fancy going for a walk?" Clara asked. No explanation was necessary for her sudden desire to escape the flat. The hens were a noisy bunch.

The Doctor nodded, getting to his feet. He'd even given up on trying to plead with the hens to stop their clucking and had ended up lying on the console room floor for 10 minutes.

"Who knows," he began, swiping his jacket off the coat hanger as they passed through the TARDIS to Clara's living room. "It might even snow."

It had snowed overnight so there was just enough of a thaw for the Doctor not to worry about losing Clara in a tall snow pile. He dropped an oversized woolly hat of his that he'd accidentally snatched in his sleeve onto Clara's head, smiling to himself when it completely covered her eyes and she wrinkled her nose instinctively to get rid of it.

-x-

They walked side by side to the park across the street. There was a playground but the further in you got behind the trees, the easier it was to drown out the children's cries when the snow wasn't thick enough to build a snowman. Clara had kicked the Doctor in the shin when he'd told a little boy that the snowmen built themselves and would haunt him forever if he wasn't careful.

Clara led him away from the kids, and they engaged in light-hearted teasing over his children skills - or "dad skills" as he insisted on calling them.

"I just don't get it. Some days you're a skinny, clean-shaven Father Christmas and other days you seem like you're in the mood to kick a sand castle."

"I would never kick a sand castle!" he protested.

She sighed, giggling and looped her arm around his, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I know you wouldn't. Maebh still asks about you, you know."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Really? Short, brown hair, forest-making Maebh?"

"That's the one." Clara smiled sadly.

"What's wrong?" That smile baffled him.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

He nudged her side with his hip. "It matters to me," he said.

Clara looked up to him briefly, catching the genuine care in his eyes as he looked down at her. She looked down to her feet before explaining. "When I knew Danny wasn't coming back, and you were gone I went straight back to work because … well because I had to. And she said, 'Are you sad about Mr Pink?' I told her I was, so she asked why I wasn't with the Doctor." She blushed, knowing it didn't seem like much of a statement. Not her fault he didn't know the end of the story.

"And?" he pressed, knowing it wasn't finished but also not wanting to be insensitive. (It was a new thing he was trying for Christmas.)

"Did you know she thought we were married?"

"Married?" he echoed.

Clara chuckled. "That's what I said. When I questioned her, it looked like she'd seen me grow another head."

"Now that would be impressive. I mean it's already so wide," he said seriously, spreading his fingers to match the width of her head with his free hand.

"Oh shut up," she giggled, smacking it away. Their laughs were cut off by the sound of disgruntled cries of "GET BACK HERE!" from further up the path.

Clara cocked her head to see a man in a long coat with an even longer scarf and a hat. This was an image she didn't have to ponder over long to remember where she'd seen it. Still, she thought she should ask. "Is that-"

She didn't have time to get the question out before the man was running towards them. "Doctor," he said, doubling over out of breath. "I'm sorry I lost the birds I - oh. Is this the famous Clara then?" A manic grin spread across his face after setting eyes on the brunette.

The Twelfth Doctor nodded proudly.

"Hi," she hummed, accepting his outstretched hand and shaking it. He laughed, quickly patting her hand before letting go and looking to his future self with a raised eyebrow.

As if just tuning back into the scene, the Twelfth's slight smile deteriorated. "What do you mean you lost the birds?" he barked.

The Fourth raised his arms in surrender, slowly moving to point towards a tree.

Twelve grunted. "Useless." He turned to Clara. "I'm really sorry about this."

Clara however couldn't be less interested in missing out on another round of birds. "You _are_ the secret admirer, aren't you?" she gasped, her eyes practically sparkling.

The Doctor grunted in response. "Yes," he sighed wistfully.

His past self looked childishly amused.

"Go home," Twelve ordered bluntly.

The Fourth raised his hands in surrender, muttering to his future self before walking with a spring in his step back along the park path where he'd presumably parked the TARDIS.

Clara didn't bother waiting until he was out of earshot to speak to her Doctor. She pulled her arm away and grinned up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"You like me," she teased, poking his rib cage.

To her surprise, the Doctor grinned. "It took you long enough to figure it out," he pointed out, poking her nose.

Clara's mouth dropped open. "Oi! I did figure it out - yesterday."

"I didn't mean just for the presents," he scoffed; shocked he had to state it.

Was that a confession? She'd planned this moment in her head a few times more than she'd like to admit. Well, actually she wouldn't like to admit a single time. After all her cursed planning she still only managed to say, "I never got my four calling birds."

"Technically, you did. That was the Fourth me and I was calling birds up in the tree."

"I think I can settle for that. My flat's starting to smell like bird droppings anyway."

The Doctor smirked, impulsively cupping her face, pulling her closer and kissing her forehead. He felt like he was only 1000 years old again. He pulled away and was surprised to discover he was still smiling. The Doctor gently stroked her cheek. Her expression was simple wide-eyed shock but slowly her lips curled into a smile.

"Merry Christmas, Doctor."

"Merry Christmas, Clara Oswald."

* * *

><p><strong>*Disclaimer: I tried avoiding dialogue with the Classic Doctors up until now but I felt deliveries would get a bit boring so I thought it would be better to have more interactions. I haven't seen Classic Who yet so my apologies if the characterization is off in this chapter and the next few. (I'm just going by what my interpretation of them is from tumblr and such as well as the individual incarnations' TV Trope pages)<strong>


	5. The Fifth Doctor of Christmas

**The Fifth Doctor of Christmas**

The Doctor had had a rough night with the pets and ended up sleeping well past noon. He emerged from the living room into the corridor, intending to head for the bathroom to freshen up when he heard giggles from Clara's bedroom; one of which sounded masculine.

He wasted no time throwing the door to her bedroom open with a scowl. Clara getting a new boyfriend over the holidays had been the exact reason he'd finally decided he was going to stay with her long before Christmas Day. How did she even have time to gallivant when she'd spent the whole past two days with him?

"Clara I-" Oh. The two faces darted towards him, both smiling happily at some joke he'd missed out on.

"Hi," she beamed, scooting over on the bed and gesturing for the Doctor to join her. A Doctor/Clara sandwich, how brilliant. "He was just telling me about the time you met Sandshoes," Clara informed him, noticing the look of distrust directed at his past self.

"Timelines merging - dangerous! - but always good for reawakening memories, don't you think?" the Fifth asked his future self.

Twelve shrugged nonchalantly. Clara sighed. Why could he never get along with himself?

"Celery, I think it's time you deliver the rings and go," the Doctor remarked.

"Yes, yes, in a moment, granddad," he replied in spite of the insult, turning his attention back to Clara.

"Grandda-?"

"Doctor, stop being offended by yourself," Clara ordered them both. She then shot her head towards the older Doctor alone. "Did you look after the kids all night?" she asked. They'd taken to referring to their new pets as 'the kids' during their walk, getting many strange gazes as they discussed the sleeping arrangements of their hens, doves and partridge.

"I did," he said, finally taking his seat beside her on the bed. "And we're going to have to stop calling them kids."

"Why?"

"It'll get confusing."

"Are you suggesting something?" she teased to which both Doctors looked at her with a raised eyebrow in confusion.

Clara rolled her eyes, leaving their perplexed looks to fade as they were replaced with wide-eyed realisation. She chuckled, patting both their hands. "There you go."

The Doctors exchanged a look with each other. "Brave heart, Doctor," the Fifth told his future self with a grin. He hopped off the bed, taking Clara's hand to shake. "Sorry, must dash but it has been a pleasure to meet you, Miss Oswald."

She wrinkled her nose, getting to her feet to walk him out. "Don't get used to calling me that. Especially when you look this young," she asked of him but lost her seriousness as her words progressed. Clara pulled him into a goodbye hug which he reciprocated with a blush. Doctors, she thought with a sigh.

They parted and Five had a foot outside her bedroom door before turning abruptly back to Clara who was an inch away from him and had received quite the wallop from his coat.

"I almost forgot," he said, fishing in his pocket for a small velvet box. "How silly of me was that?" His older self knew of course that he hadn't in fact forgotten but was waiting until the last minute out of shyness. Or at least his older self was remembering slowly.

The Fifth knelt down on the ground, raising one knee and swiping his hat away. "Clara," he breathed. "I know I don't know you very well - despite knowing you all my life it seems - but in the few hours I've spent with you I can see what is presumably only a fraction yet is still more than enough to give me the courage to do this for my future self."

Twelve tilted his head as if it would reawaken the memories quicker. He wasn't going to … was he? Oh no no.

"Clara Oswald," the Fifth said, grinning like a child as he opened the box to reveal a series of golden rings. "Will you marry me?"

Clara didn't know how to react. She exchanged a look between her Doctor and the man kneeling in front of her. Her Doctor had obviously not planned this, Clara assumed from the fact that he was now lying on his back with his palm completely covering his face.

The Fifth seemed to be growing nervous, waiting for an answer, wobbling slightly as he tried to keep balanced on his one knee. Clara allowed herself to laugh at the situation. "You can stand up," she told him, observing his discomfort.

He bolted up, smiling appreciatively at her. "I take it you're going to have to think about it?"

She smiled, closing her hand around the box in his hand, looking intently at the five rings inside. "Tell you what," she said, pulling one out and grabbing his free hand. "I'll take the rings and we can decide later if this should be remembered as a joke or not." Clara smirked up at him as she slid one onto his engagement finger. Who gets engaged with something that resembles a wedding ring, anyway?

"May I?" the Fifth asked, nodding between the rings and her hand. She nodded in turn, laughing as the cool metal slipped onto her finger. Clara grinned up at him briefly before her eyes shot back to the Doctor lying despondently on her bed. She plucked another ring out of the box and took a single hop over to him, taking his hand without a spoken word only to see he already had a ring there. Two in fact, but one resembled an older replica of the one she was holding.

Clara furrowed her brows in confusion. So much for that anyway. She'd noticed the rings before of course but she hadn't given it any thought other than it being a fashion statement. "Doctor, why have you already got the ring?" The Doctor moved his other hand from his face and followed Clara's gaze.

"I didn't know," he answered, sitting up properly to examine the ring he was already wearing and the one Clara had been about to put on him. Out of embarrassment, he'd tuned out of the scene once it became apparent that his younger self was going to propose. He slowly smiled. "I kept it," he noted, looking over to his younger self.

"I took it off at first. I didn't know where it came from so keeping it didn't seem like the best idea but I could never throw it out," he remembered. "I left it in the wardrobe and for some reason, god knows what, I decided to put it on this regeneration." He actually knew exactly what reason. He was trying to pick a new outfit that he liked and could wear with little variation every day for the next few hundred years but he also wanted what he wore to matter to him. Colours matching what he'd last remembered Clara wearing for 1000 years seemed important to him. And Clara always wore rings, so he figured he should too. He hadn't paid attention to what fingers were for what; in the back of his mind he just remembered that was where that ring should go (the other simply went with it.) Now he knew why that was.

Clara's eyes twinkled and if she'd waited any longer to tackle hug him he would have thought she was crying. "That was very sweet of you," she whispered.

"It was?"

"Yes. Even if you didn't know what you were doing." She pouted playfully at him, crossing her arms. "I can't believe we've been engaged for over half your life and you never told me," Clara whined sarcastically.

"Is that a yes then?" the younger Doctor interrupted.

He seemed to be joking but Clara didn't take much notice. "It's not a no," she answered him. "I'll take the rest of those anyway." Clara took the box he was still holding out to her. "In case we lose any."

The Fifth put his hat back on and smirked to his older self. "To days to come."

"All my love to long ago." Both Doctors looked briefly to Clara who didn't seem to be paying attention and was more interested in the Gallifreyan inscriptions on the rings. The Twelfth winked at his past self. "Well, almost all," he added quietly.


	6. The Sixth Doctor of Christmas

**The Sixth Doctor of Christmas**

"Just to clarify," Clara began awkwardly the next afternoon. "We're not actually engaged, right?" Whenever either one of them had breached the subject the previous day they'd either laughed or just shrugged, neither of them fully believing what had happened, she suspected. But when Clara woke up with a ring on her finger, she couldn't exactly ignore it.

"No," he answered, not looking at her. She hadn't said yes, what sort of man did she think he was?

There was a pregnant pause, ended when Clara cleared her throat. "Right, well now that that's settled we better move."

The Doctor looked at her over his shoulder, stirring his tea absentmindedly. "Eh?"

"We're going to the school," she told him, patting his back as she brushed past him through the door.

"Ah yes. The Christmas thing," he recalled her mentioning.

"That's the one."

He expected his sixth self would be there trying to steal the geese from the nativity crib. The Doctor couldn't help but be a little amused by that. Though he certainly wasn't allowing this past self to talk to Clara. Too rude. Although he didn't entirely expect Clara to change her mind and agree to his surprise proposal, he thought too much interaction with his Sixth form might rule that out entirely.

-x-

"If anyone asks, we're neighbors," Clara whispered in his ear, careful not to make any physical contact.

"Why can't we just tell them we're friends? It's what we are, isn't it?" Clara didn't seem to have adopted a change in dynamic despite her knowledge that he was her 'secret admirer'. She probably thought he was joking.

"Of course it is but we don't look like a conventional pair of best friends so people will suspect other things, especially since I said I didn't know you when you were the caretaker."

The Doctor still didn't understand what she was getting at but he agreed anyway. "Yes, ma'am."

The grounds of Coal Hill were covered in Christmas lights and cheap stalls set up by students with various games. Clara had gotten there earlier than she had to so she could have a look around with the Doctor and dedicate enough time to telling him he had to behave. The Doctor obliged, saying it was her Christmas present. Another one anyway.

She was forced to abandon him to help with some Year 10's pin the hat on the Santa stall. The Doctor had offered to stay with Clara and keep her company but they both decided it wasn't the best idea when they saw Courtney Woods was running that particular game.

So the Doctor did what any responsible man would do and went to help his past self kidnap some geese.

Needless to say, Clara was unaware that was what he meant by "talking to the less-scary kids."

"What's the old caretaker doing here?" Clara heard one of the kids say. She quickly glanced to Courtney with a wary look, telling her not to reveal his real profession. Or name, which far from coincided.

Courtney shrugged. "It's not like it's the first time he's been here since he quit."

"Yeah but it's been like six months."

"Who cares?!" Courtney snapped, disinterested in a conversation that could get her in trouble for a change.

Clara cleared her throat. "I'll go get some more prizes," she announced, heading to the back of the stall where there was a few boxes of teddy bears being stored.

"He's not seeing Ozzie is he?" Clara heard the other girl ask in a voice she thought was quiet.

Courtney looked personally offended. "No way. It's only been six months since Mr Pink. And the caretaker's way too old."

Clara rolled her eyes at the last part.

"Exactly!" the girl sang. "It's such an obvious true-love romance trope."

Clara could guess that the disruptive influence was holding back her knowledge that the Doctor set a "no hanky panky" rule. The rule which Clara knew to be flexible in special circumstances. Circumstances such as un-committing the genocide of his own people and getting too drunk on a planet made entirely of shrubs. She didn't think the Doctor remembered the latter - she barely did. Clara could just remember waking up in a room that wasn't hers, with a splitting headache and a silver haired man beside her. Out of embarrassment she'd crept out of bed and went to her own room, deciding to pretend nothing happened seeing as she was still with Danny at the time.

She reemerged supporting two boxes under her chin, sliding them onto the counter quickly before she lost her balance.

"Oh, hi miss…" the girl whose name Clara didn't have the foggiest knowledge of said, her cheeks stained a bright pink.

"You heard didn't you, miss?" Courtney snickered.

Clara sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "Yes I did."

"I'm so sorry I-"

"No it's alright." The girl looked genuinely sorry and like she'd pass out if she had an inch further of embarrassment. "You were closer than Courtney anyway," Clara quipped, deciding to go see what the Doctor was up to and leaving the girls to make of that what they would.

"I told you!" the girl 'whispered'.

-x-

Clara eventually found the Doctor when she heard a faint, manly scream. She followed with a roll of her eyes, muttering "I leave you for fifteen minutes," under her breath.

He was trying to fasten leashes onto a family of geese behind the nativity crib.

"Doctor!" she shrieked, rushing to his side. "I can't take you anywhere. What are you doing?"

"I'd think that was obvious," a man in a bright rainbow coloured coat answered. That must be the Doctor too. Only he would dress like that.

"Don't be rude," the Twelfth ordered himself. He looked towards Clara. "I'm starting to think these geese aren't suitable for home."

"That's because they're not."

He nodded with a serious expression. "We should get a new house. Bigger and with a garden. You'd spent days looking for a garden in the TARDIS. I could redecorate I suppose but-"

"Doctor!" Clara took a calming breath, kneeling beside him but careful to shuffle away from the goose that looked like it may kill. "I've seen the geese which is what matters," she said. Clara looked to both Doctors. "Thank you for your efforts but I think we should stick to robbing banks."

"Robbing banks?" the Sixth asked.

They both nodded with grins on their faces.

"Best bank in the universe," the older Doctor added.

His former self smirked slightly, getting to his feet and letting the goose he'd been dealing with free. "I see why he likes you. Now, if you don't mind I have some matters of my own to deal with."


	7. The Seventh Doctor of Christmas

**The Seventh Doctor of Christmas**

It wasn't the most pleasant of days but the Doctor and Clara had decided it would be a nice idea to go back to the park anyway. (Actually, the Doctor knew they had to in order to see the swans; Clara pretended to be oblivious as a courtesy; the Doctor was fully aware of what she was doing but refused to say anything.)

With no prior discussion, they sat on a bench looking directly onto the lake. Clara shivered in the cold, tightening her coat around her body. "It's a miracle it hasn't frozen over," she chided.

The Doctor couldn't help but feel a little guilty. It was his fault they were out there. Without a hesitation, he pulled his scarf from around his neck and carefully wrapped it around her neck. He internally scolded himself. That lonely year without Clara had really made him soft.

Clara smiled up at him for his generous act. She knew he didn't feel the cold as much as humans but it didn't lessen the fact that he didn't have to give it to her. Clara pondered a response but ultimately said nothing, curling her arm around his and resting her head on his shoulder instead.

As custom, the Doctor didn't know what to do next. Should he put his head on hers? Should he put his free hand with hers? This deliberation left him staring between his hand and hers for five minutes straight.

"Doctor?"

He snapped back to reality, looking down to Clara with a raised eyebrow. "Mm?"

"I've been meeting different versions of you the past few days and …"

"You were wondering if you'd be seeing that old bowtie again." The Doctor was waiting for this conversation to crop up. He smiled softly at her.

"Yeah," she admitted bashfully.

The Doctor used his free hand to gently pat her cheek. "It's all right," he told her. It went unsaid that she was worried his newer self would be hurt with the knowledge that she wanted to see the Chin again. "And yes you will. Thank you."

"Thank you?"

"He's visiting you from Trenzalore. I've already gone there as his temporary replacement." He sighed, seeing the confusion still in Clara's expression. "There were a few decades where I just hated moving forward and going nowhere. I felt I couldn't do it. But something kept me going. I had no idea what, but it worked," he began.

"I'm pretty confident I know why now." He took a deep breath. What he wouldn't give to be good at these things.

Clara nudged him, encouraging him to elaborate.

The Doctor reluctantly cleared his throat. "I saw me-him-whatever you want to call him- come back from visiting you. Then I knew what kept me going those years." He internally groaned. That was cheesiness at its worst, he thought.

Clara disagreed. She unlinked her arm with his and threw both her arms around his neck, her eyes glistening with the smallest tears.

The Doctor stiffened while making a mental note to be grossly cheesy more often. ( Him, the man of grand gestures saw his Christmas plans as logically nice. Cheesy? Not at all. ) Slowly, the Doctor's arms managed to close around her back. He was quite impressed, given the less than ideal angle.

"Do you remember it? Visiting, I mean." Clara asked, letting go of him and looking in his eyes.

"No," he confessed. "But you'll meet him again. Promise."

She smiled at him, lightly pecking his cheek before resuming her position against his shoulder. Clara wasn't sure there was an appropriate vocal response to this confirmation - not that all her years studying English would have helped her find them anyway.

Clara had been wondering what she'd say to him and how she'd react to seeing him again. Would she cry? All she knew was that she was giving him the biggest hug she could. She didn't want to dwell on letting go too much. Her thoughts were cut off in perfect time as usual, when the Doctor tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to the distance.

Her eyes followed his finger which had fixed on a raggedy looking TARDIS across the lake. Beside it was a man proudly leaning on his umbrella and pointing in turn to the seven swans that had appeared in the lake.

"Saved them from a storm," her Doctor explained.

She chuckled and nudged him in the side. "What's made you go soft?" she teased.

"I have not gone soft!" he defended.

Clara snickered. "I never said it was a bad thing."

The Doctor's posture easily relaxed. "Oh."

Clara nodded at him with a serious expression, noting that he'd just proved her point. "Soft."


	8. The Eighth Doctor of Christmas

***A/N: Sorry it's been a few days but I was really struggling with this chapter. I'm still not sure if I'm happy with it but it's 3 am so it will have to do. I haven't proofread yet so hopefully everything's okay but I will edit tomorrow. Enjoy! (I hope)**

**The Eighth Doctor of Christmas**

"What happens today?" Clara asked curiously, handing the Doctor some tinsel for higher up on the tree.

He shrugged. "I can't remember," he replied honestly. Their _Clara's_ flat was in much better condition now that they'd fished the decorations out of the cupboard down the hall. "But, it'll probably be fun and involve cows."

Clara nodded with a small smirk. She couldn't believe he was actually doing all of this. She pulled a silver reindeer ornament out of a box and inspected it carefully to find no signs of chipping. "Do you think I should put this in the window this year?" she wondered.

The Doctor looked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. He paused for a focused moment before telling her he agreed. "That was by the telly last year, wasn't it?"

She grinned at him, patting his arm as she hopped past him to the window. Clara loved when he remembered stupid little things like that. As soon as she reached the window, her jaw dropped. "Oh my stars …" She blinked in disbelief, unable to control her laughter when the image didn't change.

He strolled over to Clara, following her eyes to the man outside the window surrounded by cows. He had shoulder length, puffy light brown hair and was wearing a long green jacket his current self found ghastly.

Eight waved enthusiastically up at them - well, at Clara - with a beaming grin. He gestured for Clara to come outside and join him.

Clara giggled, looking to her Doctor for a moment who looked just as mesmerized at the sight of him with 8 cows and 7 maids. _I don't do anything halfway,_ he thought to himself, too baffled to be smug.

"So is this when you started getting really hot?" she asked him seriously.

The Doctor put a hand to his chest in offense. "Excuse me?"

"You were already attractive," she sighed, gently stroking his arm in reassurance and to heighten sincerity. Clara glanced down to the grass with a smirk. "But _very_ now." She raised an eyebrow at him suggestively before sauntering away and heading downstairs.

Doctor: "…"

Not a thing. He sighed, looking out the window to see what the two youngsters were getting up to. He grunted at his former self's lack of discipline. He wasn't paying any attention to his cow _at all._ He seemed to be far more interested in Clara, not that he was exactly surprised.

After considerably too long in his opinion - three minutes - the Doctor sharpened his appearance, deciding the young people had had their intimately close fun. Intimately close in his opinion being that they'd hugged and then not dispersed to converse with others.

When the older Doctor arrived on the scene he noticed just how irritated the other maids seemed to be to have to actually do their jobs while the Doctor flirted.

"'Scuse me, Clara," he interrupted, tapping her on the shoulder. "We've still got a Christmas tree to put up."

"I'll join you," the Eighth informed them, bolting up from his stool beside the cow which earned him a few irritated glances from the other maids.

Clara seemed to think it was a nice idea which was enough to convince the elder Doctor that it might be _fun_.

-x-

Somewhere in the midst of the Doctors arguing over who would put the star on the tree, Clara managed to head next door and borrow a foot ladder from her neighbours, take the star from the bag of ornaments and place it atop the tree with ease.

She cleared her throat, both men's heads darting towards her straight away. "Seriously?" she sighed, giving them both harshly judgmental looks.

The incarnations looked sheepishly between one another, the Eighth cracking a smile first. "Well, it appears my work here is done for today." He and Clara extended a hand to one another which he swiftly brought to his lips to place a delicate kiss on. "Merry Christmas, miss," he said with a wink before heading back outside where he'd parked the TARDIS - they'd already sent the maids and their cows back home before finishing the decorating.

Once out of earshot of his younger self, the Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't know how you put up with me. I'm intolerable."

Clara grinned, using the Doctor as her anchor back to the ground by putting her hands on his shoulders and he expectantly putting his on her waist to let her jump down safely. "Yes you are," she agreed.

"Thank goodness I have you to boost my ego."

She rolled her eyes. "Careful or I'll print that picture I took of you milking a cow." It had been a difficult shot to get considering he didn't do a whole lot of milking and that she wasn't the greatest with her phone anyway but she managed to get one decent photo.

The Doctor shrugged. He'd looked like a much bigger fool before. "If you think that was bad," he sighed. "Wait until Day 10."


	9. The Ninth Doctor of Christmas

***A/N: Okay so I missed the deadline I'd set for myself, so I'm going to reset it and say I'll have it finished by the end of January :P Still not too happy with this chapter but hopefully it's not as rubbish as I think.**

**The Ninth Doctor of Christmas**

"Clara!"

She groaned, turning on her lamp with one hand and rubbing her eyes with the other. "Doctor, what is it?"

"Get up," he replied simply, kneeling by her bedside and tugging on her hand. "It's not over yet in case you've forgotten."

Clara sighed and pushed herself out of bed with his assistance.

"I'm not sure how I feel about the whole nine ladies dancing thing by the way," she pointed out.

"Don't you worry," he said, tapping her nose for emphasis. "Me and myself will only be looking at you."

She smirked at that but he didn't give her the satisfaction she always got from embarrassing him.

"I made you breakfast," he announced as they stepped into the kitchen.

Clara looked at him, impressed but just to rub the smug look off of his face Clara said, "And you couldn't have given it to me in bed?"

The Doctor frowned. "Shut up and eat your sausages," he huffed.

She smiled gleefully, sitting on the chair that had already been pulled out for her. She knew she shouldn't get used to this gentleman-y Doctor but it was hard not to imagine him always being like this. Clara also tried not to dwell on the possibility that this meant whenever he was being a knob, he was doing it on purpose.

Clara swallowed a mouthful of sausage **(ha-ha. i'm mature. can you tell it's 3am again?) **before she spoke again. "So what can I expect from today? They're not going to be like strippers or anything, are they?"

The Doctor looked highly offended as he pulled his face away from the mug of coffee in his hand. "You think I'd bring you strippers for Christmas?"

She shrugged. "Past you might have thought it'd be funny."

"Well I didn't," he scoffed, sitting across from her. "No, it'll just be traditional can-can dancing." From what he could remember anyway.

"If you're not one of the ladies I'm going to be thoroughly disappointed, Doctor."

"What?"

Clara said nothing, giving him a look that said 'you heard me'.

"Back in a minute," he said, excusing himself from the table and racing casually into the TARDIS.

-x-

"You need to be one of the dancers."

"I what? I'm not flaming dancing. Do you want me to wear a frilly skirt too?"

"Oh don't be ridiculous. You'd have to wear the full dress, not just the skirt-"

The Ninth cut him off with a groan and firm shaking of his head.

Twelve tried his best not to lose his temper. "This is for Clara," he reminded his younger self.

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because you're the only one of us who can actually dance properly," he said sincerely, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Nine looked at the hand as if it might explode. "Oh I am, am I?" he queried, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

"You are."

"I can dance?"

"You can dance."

"I can dance."

"Was that a yes?"

"…I'm not wearing the dress."

-x-

He evidently did not wear the dress but it didn't make him any less entertaining to watch. The Doctor's twelfth form seemed to be enjoying it a lot more than Clara who couldn't watch for more than 5 seconds without cringing away.

The Ninth Doctor, tough in his leather jacket and all-black clothing was jumping up and down, spinning and doing a choreographed circus routine which Clara recognized as usually performed by only women. He was surprisingly good at it but that didn't stop him from glaring at his future self for the first minute or so, before be started to laugh and enjoy himself.

Ignoring his future self's snickering on the sidelines, the Ninth grabbed Clara by the hand and looped his arm around hers, them both facing the opposite ways and starting to spin in circles. Clara couldn't help but burst out laughing as she saw his goofy grin when he twirled her around. (He'd started ignoring the instructions of the other dancers and was now trying to have as much fun as he could to distract from the fact that he'd actually agreed to do any of this.)

The song was upbeat so it didn't give Twelve space to feel envy towards his self; but that didn't stop him from gripping Clara's waist and forming a conga line that in no way fit with the rhythm of the song. Nine, Clara and Twelve were then reluctantly joined by the eight other dancers who had never felt so unprofessional in their lives but wouldn't admit to enjoying themselves.

As Twelve felt hands at his torso he inwardly shivered but said nothing. _Merry Christmas._

-x-

After following strict rules not to mention the Time War – still fresh in Nine's mind. Or the events he believed to be real were anyway - the two Doctors and Clara spoke over tea and fought pettily over chocolates (Clara won) before Nine went on his way.

"You know, I quite like London. This area too. It reminds me of something. I think I was even in this building before," Nine observed as he walked past the threshold of Clara's flat.

"Bye bye," Clara said briskly, giving one last shove and closing the door.

The remaining Doctor gave a heavy sigh and stood up from the sofa. All of these paradoxes were draining but not technically dangerous to him – and certainly not physically. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, putting both hands gently on her shoulders and kissing her forehead before retreating to the TARDIS.

"And don't hold me liable for how much he flirts with you!" he called from inside.


	10. The Tenth Doctor of Christmas

***A/N: Sorry this has taken me forever to update. I still hope it's okay (and I've purposefully eased on the Christmas theme because of my own terrible discipline, so don't worry about that. Although! It's just started snowing where I live today) **

* * *

><p><span><strong>The Tenth Doctor of Christmas<strong>

"Clara Oswald," Ten said, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on it.

"Doctor," she greeted, bowing her head in a joking curtsy.

He dropped his arm with a wink before looking over to his future self. He seemed to be suffering a great deal from self inflicted second hand embarrassment - a sentiment not many people could share.

"Okay, time to get on with the show," Twelve urged, pointing to the nine other incarnations behind him. It goes without saying that Clara was having a spectacular day.

Thankfully the park was completely empty apart from them. Which was purely coincidence. It wasn't as though the Doctor had put a perception filter up to save hisselves from being seen by the public. Okay, so maybe he had.

They weren't dressed in usual lords-a-leaping attire, but the Doctor knew they were going to do it. Embarrass themselves. He thought he should probably have reviewed the song in it's entirety before deciding he'd take part as much as possible.

The Doctors' could be split into three categories at that moment: grumpy; embarrassed and too eager for their own good.

Twelve buried his face in his hands, not prepared for what song his past faces had chosen to embarrass him - he had an incredibly complicated relationship with himself that he didn't think he would ever understand.

The other Doctors lined up, while Twelve tried to shield himself behind Clara to spare the sight of his past. As "All I Want for Christmas Is You" came through the speakers, Twelve just buried his face in his hands.

It wasn't hard to tell the Doctors hadn't practiced at all and were just hopping like idiotic bunnies; but Clara had to laugh. She resisted the urge to pull Twelve's hand from his face so he could suffer.

"That was atrocious," he knew.

"Good guess," Clara agreed, pulling him to his feet by the arm. "But I thought it was fun. You'll improve with practice."

The Doctor couldn't help but smile down at her. "I'm glad you think so," he said, tapping her nose.

She turned backwards, lying her head against his shoulder as she looked at the other Doctors. "You know, I really like this. I thought having lots of yous around would be annoying but-"

Clara could feel the Doctor tense in offense, interrupting her reverie with a giggle. "-but I was wrong," she concluded.

It was only then that either of them noticed one of the Doctors they'd seen earlier was missing.

The question as to where he was was quickly answered by an arm slung over both their shoulders and a heavily-gelled head poking between them.

"Ha! Brilliant," he beamed. The Tenth Doctor cleared his throat and straightened his back, as if preparing for a very important speech. "Sleepover at Clara's!" he announced.

-x-

After some weak arguments, the majority won and packed into Clara's flat. They'd had to shrink their individual TARDIS' down so they could carry them inside. ( They didn't want anyone to notice that there had been a lot of police boxes dotted around the building, and Clara's home wasn't big enough to fit them all at full size. )

They piled in, one after the other. Grandfather, recorder, cape, scarf, cellery, rainbow, umbrella, gallifreyan grunge, leather jacket and sandshoes all handed their TARDIS' to Clara as passed and she in turn gave them to Twelve who lined them up on the kitchen table.

"Where are you all going to sleep?"

"We don't need to."

"Oh yes you do," she told him. "I'm not having eleven of you snooping around the place for the whole night. I'll get no sleep!"

The Doctor frowned. "Fair point. I'll tell them." He started for the living room where most of them were seated, calling back to Clara without looking at her. "You've a big day tomorrow, it's the least I could do."

-x-

The sleeping arrangements weren't fun to arrange but the Doctors avoided arguing for Clara's sake.

One got the bed in the spare bedroom; the two couches were given to Two and Three; the others were given blankets and blow up mattresses taken from Twelve's TARDIS ( no one wanted to go inside because it would defeat the purpose of the sleepover. ) Four, Six and Seven were in the living room; Five and Nine were in the hall; Eight and Ten slept on the floor in the spare bedroom and Twelve slept on the floor in Clara's bedroom.

In order to annoy his future self - for reasons Ten tried not to think into too much - he decided it would be fun to try and adjust his sleeping arrangements.

After some bickering, laughing and a few litres of tea between them, Clara finally grew tired enough to call it a night. "I'll give you twenty minutes, and if I hear you lot still wandering about, you'll have it."

There was mutterings of "but Clara" and sighs of "goodnight".

She headed off in her pale blue nightgown and fluffy slippers, a grin etched on her face that she couldn't shake. She gave one glance back to the living room, just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. There were so many that nobody would have noticed if someone wandered off.

Spinning quickly to shut the door, not even looking behind her, a hand was clapped over Clara's mouth and she felt an arm around her torso. She gave a muffled scream but her capturer simply turned her around and let go.

"Sorry," Ten chuckled. "I couldn't resist."

Clara gave a disapproving glare but his shy, yet smug smirk worked like a magic wand, wiping it away.

"I hate you," she groaned, huffing half-heartedly.

"Sure you do-"

"What are you even doing here?"

"Being annoying," he replied plainly. "Just play along when other me comes in, okay?"

She raised an eyebrow, still confused. "Is this because he said you had vanity issues?"

"…Shut up."

"Oh not you too-"

Hearing the two heartbeats approach, Ten put a finger to her lip to silence her.

Twelve flung the door open just after giving Ten enough time to drop his hand and shove it in his pocket casually.

"Hello!" Ten beamed.

Twelve scowled. "What?" he asked coldy, sounding almost bored.

"Clara and I were just saying that it's probably a good idea if I sleep in here tonight. Just for … reasons." He was purposefully sounding uncomfortable. Clara could see what he was doing and couldn't resist a smile.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I mean, it's a double bed so there's no point wasting it. Sleeping on the floor hardly sounds comfortable."

"_I'm_ sleeping on the floor!"

"Well yeah but he's you too, and he got here first so, it doesn't really make a difference which one of you gets the bed."

"But I - he doesn't even -" Twelve was stammering so much, it amused Ten but Clara couldn't take it any longer.

With a laugh to lose the tension she'd built, Clara shook her head, putting a hand on his arm in an apologetic motion. "Sorry-" she breathed.

Ten would have frowned but one look at Clara's bright laughing face but a grin on his.

"He made me play along."

Twelve turned to himself with wide eyes and his mouth open in offense. He was grateful looks couldn't kill because he would have put his timeline very off schedule.

Clara snickered, putting a hand on Ten's back and urging him out of her room. "Go on," she said sternly but with a joking expression. He sunk his sandshoes in to the ground to give himself enough time to compliment her acting skills just in case she shut the door before he could.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Thank you." Clara pushed him past the threshold with one last shove but didn't shut the door, having a feeling he wasn't finished yet.

His smug smile softened to one of genuine kindness. "Goodnight, Clara," he said.

"Goodnight, Doctor." Clara returned his smile and to her surprise, he leant forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. With a wink and small salute, he headed off to his mattress on the spare bedroom floor.

She shut the door with her back, turning to face the Doctor.

"I told you he was a flirt," Twelve said with a shrug, lowering himself to his bed on the floor.

Clara grinned slyly. "I think you fancied me a bit," she objected, pushing off from the door. She hopped across his mattress to get to his bed, stepping on his foot but managing not to stumble. He winced though.

"Goodnight," he grumbled.

"Goodnight," she said, bending down from her bed and giving his 1000+ year old cheek kiss back to him.


	11. The Eleventh Doctor of Christmas

***A/N: This was proofread and edited but then the coding messed up when publishing so I had to repost so I apologise for any mistakes, I'll fix them later.**

**The Eleventh Doctor of Christmas**

She didn't know why, but when she woke up, she was nervous. Clara felt a knot in her stomach that no amount of squirming and shifting in bed could get rid of. Slowly, she opened her eyes and seeing the Doctor - all silver hair and ridiculous looking striped pyjamas - lying on the ground beside her, she remembered why she was scared.

She had an appointment with the Doctor.

It was ridiculous to be anxious, she knew that. But it didn't change anything. It had been over a year since the worst Christmas she'd ever had; she wasn't quite sure how she'd react to seeing him again. She almost felt guilty for the hatred she felt for that day as she gazed down at the face she'd been so devastated to see. He'd proven himself to her, and she loved him just as much as she always had but -

It didn't lessen the pain she'd felt that day, it didn't soften the blow with hindsight, it didn't fill in the hole that had been left in her that day.

The Doctor had told her what he knew of today; he told her it went very well and he now knew that that's what kept him going in the early days of Trenzalore. It was a comfort, but at the same time it made her afraid she wouldn't be able to live up to it.

Clara being Clara decided to occupy her mind my making some tea. She crept out of the room around Twelve and managed to make her way to the kitchen as quietly as possible. Much to her shock, all of the Doctors were fast asleep except for one.

Despite only being with him a day, Clara found it odd to see the Ninth Doctor in pyjamas rather than his leather jacket. It was just very _him_.

"Morning," he greeted her, giving a goofy grin that would have been seen as sarcastic by anyone who didn't know the Doctor.

"Couldn't sleep?" she wondered.

He nodded. "Haven't really been able to lately," he admitted nonchalantly. The Doctor wasn't doing anything, just fiddling idly with the fruit bowl.

Clara understood why. It was because of the Time War. She knew she was under strict rules not to mention the War, but she couldn't let one Doctor be sad. Even if he was good at hiding it.

She smiled softly, walking towards the kettle behind him. "Look," she began tenderly. "I know I shouldn't tell you this but-" He made a noise of protest but Clara shot her head up to him with a 'shut up and listen' look in her eye. She'd gotten very good at that.

He shut his mouth and crossed his arms. The Doctor knew he shouldn't listen - but how could he resist? He wouldn't remember anyway.

"What you think happened in the Time War . . . you didn't do it."

The Doctor's face fell. "You don't need to do this," he said quickly but surprisingly gently. "I know what happened and it's my fault." His tone then fell darker and he spat, "So I'm sorry if I'm spoiling the mood this mornin'."

Clara would have shouted in response if it weren't for the others still being asleep. "_I'm not making it up_," she whispered harshly. "I was there." He really was an idiot. She sighed, a smirk appearing as she recalled a conversation she had with the Doctor once before, not long after he'd changed.

"Where do you think you got that accent from?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow at him.

He was taken aback by that. "No where, I just . . ." his words fell limp, realization dawning on his face. "Are you - are you trying to say that you stopped me?" The Doctor was trying to keep his walls up but was failing spectacularly, his voice high-pitched with hope.

Nine had almost forgotten about the Time War the past two days but, knowing that this Christmas was going to end very soon had been a pull back to reality. A reminder that he didn't deserve this; not yet.

Clara beamed at him, relieved to hear the hope in his tone. She thought he might even cry. "Yeah, I did."

"But - HOW?" he asked, his face breaking into the most genuine smile his relatively new face had ever given.

She shook her head, drawing the line of secrets there. "I can't tell you but just know that they're alive." Clara bowed her head momentarily before looking back up at him and adding, "Gallifrey is still lost but you can find it again. And you will."

The Doctor pulled her into a hug, swinging her around like her chinboy used to do. "Clara Oswald, you are impossible!"

Clara chuckled but put a finger to his lips, reminding him to be courteous to his other sleeping selves. "So I've been told."

"I could bloody kiss you," he said, putting her back down on the ground.

She rolled her eyes at that. "Oh like you've got the guts," she teased.

-x-

It was snowing outside so they were all gathered around the living room in front of the telly, though none of them were really watching it.

There was the sound of knuckles wrapping on the front door and Clara froze.

Twelve placed his hand on hers lightly, a smirk on his face. "Breathe," he reminded her. Clara broke into a chuckle, that being all the reassurance she needed before bolting from the sofa. She flung the door open like she had all those years ago at the Maitland household. Thankfully he wasn't dressed as a monk this time.

Standing in his iconic tweed and bowtie, Eleven's shoulders relaxed and his eyes lit. What had previously been a look of uneasiness changed immediately to that of disbelief and joy. "Clara," he breathed.

"It's really you," she finished for him. Before she even finished the final syllable, she was whisked off the ground in a tight hug. The Doctor was clinging to her as though he was afraid she'd vanish if he let go but he laughed into her shoulder.

"I missed you," he told her. It had been forty years since he'd sent her away, and he still wondered what would have been different if she'd stayed. He wished he'd let her but he knew that was completely selfish of him. Here she was, living her life. And with him of all people. It wasn't wrong for the Doctor to take the slow path for a change.

"I missed you too, Dumbo," she said, gesturing to his ears as she pulled him into the living room by the hand. Yep, still like rocket fins. She made plans to point out that similarity between Eleven and Nine over dinner.

Eleven knew what she was referring to immediately for a change and clapped hands over his ears, mouth open in offense. "Yeah well - you're short." Some of the other Doctors groaned in embarrassment. "Oh shut up!" he whined. "Like you could do better."

Twelve cleared his throat then, looking to his younger selves. "I think we should give them a minute," he said, making a head start to the corridor. The other Doctors exchanged knowing looks and followed suit, leaving Eleven and Clara to say their deserved hellos.

"How've you been?" she asked. Seemed odd to ask really but she didn't know what else to say. It was surreal seeing him there again. Like he'd never even left. He still had that look in his eye. She could never quite describe it but the only thing that came close was to say it was the same way she looked at him. Like all the Universes they could see would pale in comparison to what they had just standing in front of them.

The Doctor's head lowered with a sad smile. "Fine," he said. "But I missed you."

Clara rolled her eyes dismissively to hide a dreaded sad smile. "We've done that bit," she reminded him.

The Doctor raised a [delicate] eyebrow at her, and tried to disguise a smirk with exaggerated looks of annoyance and an offended adjustion of his bowtie. "Oh so you're cheeky now, are you?"

She winked suggestively at him. "You never had a problem with it before."

"Yes well-I- oh _shut up_!"

Clara chuckled. "Not a chance," she said before adding softly, "but I missed you too. It's only fair I say it twice too."

The Doctor's face lit up, but Clara could still see the sadness behind it. She had to do something about that.

Nerves, doubt, over-thinking and any other possible factor that could lead to holding back were firmly thrown aside as Clara unabashedly pulled his head towards her own and closed her lips on his.

It wasn't their first kiss. It wouldn't be their last kiss. But for now, it was their kiss.

[ on the other side of the door ]

"She did it," Twelve stage-whispered to his other incarnations. He'd had the privilege of looking through the keyhole while the other Doctors were forced to press their ears to the wall.

They erupted in cheers, forgetting for a moment that they were supposed to be silent under strict orders from their self.

Eleven and Clara pulled apart instinctively at the sudden noise but didn't move one anothers hands from the other's hair. They exchanged a coy look before adding to the laughter of his other incarnations.

Twelve murmured something that resembled a swear under the filter he refused to turn off despite Clara's insistence that she felt ridiculous saying "fudging" in an argument.

"Go, go, go," he ordered the others, ushering them into the spare bedroom.

[ living room ]

"Should we go out to them?"

The Doctor looked as though he was considering it. "Nah. It's the _Eleventh_ day of Christmas," he said confidently before swooping down to kiss her again.

-x-

Dinner came after a horrible rendition of Jingle Bells on the pipes (though admittedly, Two was quite in his element playing. Eleven's pipe broke so he resorted to dancing instead), and they all managed to squash into Clara's sma-er reasonably sized kitchen. They wasted almost all of the crackers but saved the turkey for Christmas dinner the following day. Eleven insisted on making fish fingers and custard for them all. Mixed reactions to say the least.

"What's wrong?" Clara asked, noticing the youngest Doctor's frown.

"I'm mourning what becomes of my taste buds in the future," One replied grumpily.

Eleven rolled his eyes in response. "No wonder you had to kidnap friends."

There was a chorus of "ooooooooh".

Clara glared at them all simultaneously. "Doctors, behave."

"Yes, ma'am," they echoed.

-x-

Twelve cleared his throat, springing Eleven and Clara apart from their rather compromising position, leading Eleven to fall backwards of the bed and land on his head.

"So . . . " Twelve mused, leaning against Clara's doorframe with a smug expression.

Clara pretended to be oblivious but she was blushing hard. "So," she repeated plainly, sticking her chin up proudly.

Eleven cleared his throat, jumping to his feet. "Well, I'll be back in a mo'. Have to go get my jim jams."

Twelve cringed. "Did I really talk like that?"

Eleven grinned at him. "You miss me, dad," he said, patting him on the shoulder on the way out.

"_How_ can you call me dad when-"

"Doctor, shush," Clara interrupted before he could chase after himself and start another round of Doctor vs Doctor.

Twelve snickered and threw himself onto his mattress - partly to prove that he could still be as free-limbed as before. "It's good to see the two of you making up for lost time," he mused, putting his hands behind his head.

Clara rolled her eyes. "This is so weird," she sighed.

He shrugged. "The more the merrier I say. But only when it's me." They could get a cat or something but no more boyfriends-that-aren't-him.

Clara slid down from her own bed onto his mattress, her feet prodding him in the side to tell him to shuffle over and make room for her. He did as he was wordlessly told, allowing Clara to lie beside him.

"I think I can settle for that," she said.

The Doctor couldn't help but smile at her. "I'm glad you think so."

She looked up at him, a wary smile on her lips with a hint of excitement. Yeah, settling wouldn't be so hard. "We could take up water-colouring or beekeeping or something," she suggested, recalling something Eleven had told her once a long time ago.

Eleven was caught in a slight confrontation with Five over sport - cricket vs football, very serious stuff, which left Twelve and Clara lying there for quiet some time.

Clara noticed his eyes falling dazedly closed, his breathing calm, and both hearts beating soothingly in his chest. Looking over the sleeping grey haired stick insect, she whispered, "I love you." Maybe some day she'd be able to tell it to him properly, but for now she was constantly cheating.

Eleven, frozen just outside her bedroom door felt an ache in his chest - a good ache though. A humany one. "I love you too," he murmured, not loud enough for anyone to hear, even without a closed door between them. Maybe some day he'd be able to tell her properly, he thought. But for now, he was still just a silly old Doctor.


End file.
